


Goldfish

by aussiebrd23, LightDarkPheonix, simplylegacy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: -sarcasm-, Death By Musical, F/M, I will go down with it, Molly's the best, Something Clever and Snarky I'm Way to Lazy To Think Up, The fact that Mycroft would call Molly goldfish gives me so much joy, This has been hanging around for a while, then staying up too late, this came out of teen girls watching the sherlock premire, this is my ship, who would have guessed?, you have no idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussiebrd23/pseuds/aussiebrd23, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightDarkPheonix/pseuds/LightDarkPheonix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplylegacy/pseuds/simplylegacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly sighed. “You have to go. You promised your parents.”<br/>	“I don’t want to.” Mycroft knew he sounded like a petulant child, but going to see Les Miserables was not something he wanted to do. At all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Les Miserable

Molly sighed. “You have to go. You promised your parents.”  
“I don’t want to.” Mycroft knew he sounded like a petulant child, but going to see Les Miserables was not something he wanted to do. At all.  
“Mycroft. Go see the show. Enjoy it.”  
“How could I possibly enjoy being packed into a room with all those...people?”  
“Then at least act like you’re enjoying it.”  
“Would you like being stuck in a goldfish bowl?”  
“I don’t think I’d fit. And besides, people don’t stare at you all the time when you go out.”  
“Thank god for that.”  
“It’s your parents. You invited them to go see the show in the first place. You can’t just back out and shove it on Sherlock.”  
“I can shove whatever I want on Sherlock. He’s my little brother. That’s what little brothers are for.”  
Molly smiled “Looks like there’s a normal person in you after all Mycroft.”  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. Now go!” She shoved him toward the door.

Mycroft was in hell. It looked and sounded an awful lot like Les Mis, but this was definitely hell. People were packed in all around him, the lights were too bright, the singing was too loud, and he wasn’t even sure what they were doing could be called dancing. Yes. Definitely hell.  
He couldn't believe Molly actually made him go. Or that he hadn’t called Sherlock to take over yet. He had been texting him occasionally, but Sherlock was being deliberately unresponsive just to annoy him. He made up his mind to kill him later. Kill him with music. Interesting concept. Maybe Les Mis...but Sherlock would at least owe him a favor.   
His musings were interrupted by the curtain falling on the first act. He sighed with relief as the lights went up.   
His mother sighed happily. “Wasn’t it wonderful?”  
“Yes, yes. Wonderful. I have an important phone call to make. Excuse me.” he turned and left. As soon as he was out in the lobby, he called Sherlock.  
“Sherlock, you have to switch with me. It’s the interval, just hurry up and get here!”  
“Why should I? I’m a bit busy with a case.” Sherlock replied, clearly not busy with anything at all.  
“I’m your brother. This is something brothers do for each other.”  
“Interesting concept. No.”  
“Sherlock, please...” he was begging, it was humiliating but he had no choice.   
The phone lined clicked off.   
“Stupid git.” Mycroft muttered.   
He went back inside, and sat down next to his parents again.  
“How was your call, Mycroft?” his mother said, smiling.   
“Sherlock cannot come, unfortunately.”  
“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m sure he would love it here. Such a lovely show.”  
“Yes. A lovely show.” How he and his brother, two emotionally constipated geniuses, had been made by these two ordinary people always astounded him.  
“Ooh, it’s starting!” his mother squealed, proving his point.   
“My favorite song is “Do You Hear The People Sing”” his father whispered.  
“It’s... quite nice.” Mycroft said. In truth, the song caused him to mentally writhe in agony. At least, most versions of it, anyway. Dear Lord, why had he agreed to this again?  
His phone buzzed. Hoping it was a text from Sherlock saying he’d take over, Mycroft pulled it out. Instead it was from Molly.   
It’s halfway over. Be nice to your parents, and don’t ruin anyone’s lives:)  
You are evil. Why are you my goldfish? -M  
You asked me out, remember?   
I didn’t think you’d say yes, actually. One time I was nervous, ever. I can not predict outcomes with you. -M  
Well, I did, and now we’re dating, and it’s awesome.  
You’re brilliant. -M  
So are you. Now watch the show. I’ll see you afterwards anyway.  
Ugh. -M  
Have fun:)  
Ugh. -M  
“Mycroft, dear, won’t you put your phone away?” his mother said. “It’s your father’s favorite part!”  
“Fine.” he said, slipping it back into his pocket.   
“I’m tired,” his mother said, after the play. “Let’s go home.”


	2. More of Molly Being Amazing and Mycroft Being Frustrated and I Can't Write Chapter Titles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should really have someone else write these chapter titles. I am so bad. sososososososo bad.

Molly was looking for a boyfriend. She flipped through the white pages. Actor available for hire. Any jobs welcome. Promising. Molly had to visit Sherlock with her ‘fiance’ Tom. She couldn’t bring Mycroft, obviously. First he would laugh Mycroft out of the room, then perhaps die of shock. Which while hilarious would not be good for John.  
Speaking of John, she dearly wished that he would dump Mary sooner rather than later. Mycroft had told her a few days ago that he was worried how his upcoming marriage would affect Sherlock. She had managed to convince him that kidnapping Mary and throwing her in the   
Thames was a bad idea. Not only would that not at all endear him to John, it would give her paperwork to deal with.   
That was something that they both had in common. A hatred of paperwork. She had less of it, considering she didn’t have to rule the bloody world, but dead people surprisingly have good lawyers. And a lot of paperwork. Which she only put up with because being a mortician was surprisingly fun.   
Moving on from her memories, Molly called up the actor who would hopefully be willing to be “Tom” for a short period of time. She pitied the poor man. Meeting Sherlock was not the funnest thing in the world. Especially if you were dating her. Though she had moved on from the man long ago, she had realized rather recently that he was oddly protective of her, despite her not making the list of people Moriarty would have killed. Which was a compliment she supposed. He must have liked her.  
John would probably figure it out first. He was surprisingly good at telling when people were pretending things. Sherlock would be distracted by his current humanity. It was very surprising, this new human side of him. Though obviously terrifying for the man himself. Which likely explained why Mycroft had also told her a long and complex story involving heroin and Sherlock being a former junkie. He must have been worried.  
Holmes, from her personal experience, were not very mentally stable without their minders. Caretakers, not minders. So Mycroft insisted.  
Thinking of the devil, Mycroft texted her soon after.  
Are you certain I cannot throw her in the Thames? She is having an affair. -M  
No Thames. I already figured out the affair. I’m not as stupid as you think I am. -Goldfish  
Please? Sherlock will do it if I do not, and John will hate him with the passion of a thousand fiery suns if he does that. -M  
No Thames. -Goldfish  
Fine. -M  
Good. -Goldfish  
Fine. -M  
Good. -Goldfish  
Fine. -M  
Go do something productive you git. -Goldfish  
I am being productive! I averted World War III -M  
You do that every day, you know that right? -Goldfish  
Fine. -M  
I swear… -Goldfish  
I’m still surprised you chose Goldfish as your nickname, considering the context of that remark. -M  
Hush. It’s ironic. -GOLDFISH!  
So you’re my girlfish then? Sherlock will have an apoplectic fit if he finds out. -M  
Isn’t that the point? -GF  
New signature? -M  
I have no idea what you’re talking about. -GF  
Have you found your fictional fiancé yet? -M  
Yes, he’s named Tom. Are you jealous yet? -GF  
Mycroft? -GF  
Mycroft, seriously. -GF  
You’re banging your head against the wall aren’t you? -GF  
Mycroft, you’re going to lose brain cells. -GF  
I can afford to lose some. -M  
And I’m not jealous. You’re not actually dating him. -M  
If he tries to harm you... or wants to actually date you... -M  
Tom!! Come here for a sec. You have competition! -GF  
Ooops. Wrong person. :) -GF  
Ugh. -M  
I hate you with a violent raging passion. You make me human. -M  
Awww. Just for that, I’d make you a cake. If I knew how to bake. -GF  
Sadly, neither of us know how to cook. -M  
I can cook. Just not a cake. Good thing you have that thing over the pastry shop down the street. -GF  
I don’t have a thing. He owes me. -M  
It’s a thing. It’s a very convenient thing and possibly slightly illegal thing, but it’s a thing. -GF  
I’m getting pastries. Goodbye. -M  
You’re in a public place? Buying things? Like a normal person? What have you done with my Mycroft? -GF  
Could you pick up some milk? -GF  
Alright. -M  
I’m only doing this because I love you, you know. -M  
I know:) -GF

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is where quick updates end because we have a lot less material than I thought we did and I'm too lazy to actually write something good and blah. Things. Comments and kudos are, like always, appreciated. Thanks!


	3. Sherlock Has A Bit Of A Panic Attack And Mycroft HAs A Full-Blown Meltdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finds out.

MOLLY? SH  
What is it? -Molly  
You are dating Mycroft. I feel my world imploding around me. SH  
...Oh… -Molly  
You could have told me, you know. I wouldn’t have had a heart attack. Probably. SH  
It never really came up. -Molly  
Wait, how did you find out about this? -Molly  
... I stole Mycroft’s phone. SH  
If you hurt him Anthea will ritually vivisect you and I will hide the body. SH  
I don’t want to hurt him. And I think the people at the morgue would notice. -Molly  
Which is why Anthea would be the one to do the deed. I don’t think she legally exists. SH  
And I thought you didn’t care about your brother. -Molly  
We have an interesting way of showing our affection. SH  
If this is affection I’d hate to be around when you’re fighting. -Molly  
You really really don't. SH  
Have you given Mycroft his phone back yet? He sort of goes into some sort of shock without it. Something about it being his only connection to work and a lot of sobbing-Molly  
He’ll find it eventually. -SH  
Not when he’s breaking down in a corner because it’s gone -Molly  
Send video. -SH  
I am actually going to kill you. As will Anthea. And probably Mycroft -Molly  
If he ever comes out of shock. -Molly  
If you ever give him his phone back. -Molly  
Which you should do. Now -Molly  
Fine. -SH  
Tell him to be at the usual place in ten minutes, alone, and in an unmarked vehicle. -SH  
Do you enjoy pretending to be Bond villains? He’s on his way. -Molly  
[video-file0045.mp4] If you share it with anyone... I WILL KNOW -Molly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'd like to ask you guys something: would you prefer frequent, short chapters or more infrequent, longer chapters?  
> For reference, this is considered a short chapter.


	4. Molly's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have nothing to apologize for. This was something sparked by a bunch of hyper teenage girls watching Sherlock late at night, and it will continue in that vein.

“Mycroft’s birthday is soon.” Anthea pointed out.   
“Hm?” Molly said, startled. She had been seeing Mycroft for almost a month now and it was always the same routine. Get in the black car, be driven somewhere, see Mycroft, get in the black car, be driven home. This was the first time in twenty-seven days the other girl in the car had spoken, with the exception of giving her name the first time Molly had asked.  
“Mycroft, your boyfriend? His birthday is soon,” Anthea repeated. Molly was nice, actually. Unlike some of the other people who had thrown themselves at her boss.   
“Oh. Really? He never said...how old is he, anyway?” Molly asked, realizing just how stupid that sounded. A month of dates and occasional text messages, and she didn’t know the man’s age.  
“Not sure actually. I seem to get a different number every time I ask.”  
“I’ll have to ask Sherlock.” Molly said, smirking.   
“Good luck with that.” Anthea said. “It seems to be a nationally guarded secret.”  
“Though he’d have to be in his forties, right?”   
“I think so. I wouldn’t ask, though. The last person to do so was found floating in the river the next day.”  
Molly stared at Anthea for a long moment, before shaking her head. “I have a scalpel,” she said simply. The other woman snorted.  
“You’re a mortician.”  
“Yes. I work with Sherlock sometimes. Well, he asks for bodies, and I let him have access and sometimes serve as a verbal punching bag.” Not as bad now that she was long, long over him.   
In all honestly, she’s gotten over it pretty quickly, but Sherlock apparently didn’t want to hear that she genuinely liked him as a friend. For whatever reason he’d seemed to think the only reason someone would supply them with body parts was if they had an unrequited crush. Logic that had never completely made sense until she realized that he and Mycroft had the same conviction they were unlovable. For geniuses, they were both fairly stupid.  
“I should plan a party. Mycroft doesn’t go to parties. He needs some social interaction.” Also gives me the excuse to meet his parents. Maybe they’ll know his age…  
Anthea grinned. “Excellent idea. He almost never leaves the house. Just remember, you didn’t hear anything from me.”  
Molly widened her eyes innocently. “Of course!”   
The car pulled up to Molly’s street and she bounded out, excited to start planning mischief.   
First things first: call Greg. Then Sherlock, and John, and hmm, maybe even Anthea. It couldn’t be too huge, Mycroft had an aversion to extremely loud noises and too many people (the time he had to go to Les Mis came to mind). But this could definitely be a fun thing.   
No cake. Sherlock would make fun of him without a second thought. And definitely no streamers. Party hats were a possibility, though. Hmm.  
How do you throw a party for the government? -Goldfish  
I wouldn’t know. -JW  
Wait, you’re throwing a party for Mycroft? JW  
Yes. It’s his birthday soon. -Goldfish  
You’re not worried you’ll end up dead? From what Sherlock has told me Mycroft hates parties. JW  
It’ll be fine, just relax and give me advice:) -Goldfish  
Er... not too many people. Not much noise. No Les Mis music. JW  
That makes sense. Any other ideas? -Goldfish  
I’m not dating him, and honestly most of my interactions with him are brief and involve me being kidnapped. JW  
Well, you live with Sherlock. Can’t you ask him? -Goldfish  
I’m not risking my newfound pseudo-relationship for a birthday party. JW  
Wait... pseudo what’s it now? -Goldfish  
Nothing. So. Party. What kind of cake are you thinking? JW  
Chocolate. -Goldfish  
I would have thought vanilla. -JW  
Who is dating Mycroft, me, or you? -Goldfish  
Thankfully you. -JW  
I’m going to bother you about the pseudo relationship thing until you spill, you know. After I’m done panicking about my boyfriend’s birthday party. -Goldfish  
Great. Have fun. JW

\-----  
Done panicking. -Molly  
Sherlock and I are together romantically, but not sexually. JW  
Congrats :D Molly  
Onto more important things, who should I invite? -Molly  
No idea. Does Mycroft have any friends? JW  
I have... no idea honestly. You? Sherlock? Greg? -Molly  
Those aren’t really friends. Sherlock’s his brother, Greg barely knows him, and I just get kidnapped sometimes. -JW  
Actually Greg and Mycroft have been pretty good friends since Greg met Sherlock. You didn’t know this? -Molly  
People don’t tell me things, in case you haven’t noticed. -JW  
That was two years ago, you know. And I had promised. -Molly  
Also: what happened to Mary, then? -Molly  
If you and Sherlock are now platonic relationship thing. -Molly  
Can we not talk about Mary? JW  
Let me guess: she's not who you thought she was? -Molly  
Yes. JW  
Been there. -Molly  
Right. JW  
Was yours a supervillain? -Molly  
Assassin. JW   
Amature. -Molly  
So, who else are you inviting? JW  
His parents. They haven’t met me yet. -Molly   
They’re...different from Mycroft and Sherlock. JW  
How different? -Molly  
They’re normal. JW  
Normal? -Molly  
This should be fun. -Molly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got an update in:) Hope you enjoy!


	5. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a party. Of sorts.

Molly grinned at the look on Mycroft’s face. “Surprise!”  
Mycroft took in the scene. Molly’s flat was covered in streamers and balloons. This was awful. Awful. This couldn’t be happening.  
“Please tell me Sherlock isn’t here...”  
“Oh I’m most definitely here. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, brother dear.”  
Both Mycroft and Molly shot Sherlock a glare. “Sherlock, be nice. We had a deal: I give you unlimited access to the morgue, and you be nice at Mycroft’s party.”  
“I already have unlimited access.” Sherlock scowled.   
“I can revoke that.”  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll behave.” he said, flopping on a couch.   
“This can’t get any worse.” Mycroft muttered.   
Just then, his parents walked in from the kitchen. Holding a cake. With candles.   
It was worse.  
Molly felt Mycroft stiffen next to her.  
“You invited my parents? How did you even find out their telephone?”  
“I have my ways. You’re not the only one with contacts Mycroft.”  
Mycroft whirled to face his brother. “Sherlock! You made them come?”  
“Oh, Mycroft, don’t be like that.” his mother said. “When we heard you were having a party, we were so pleased. Of course we’d come!”  
His father, his utterly inane bespectacled father, added, “You haven’t celebrated your birthday since you were 16. Remember dear, when he declared it a useless societal construct?”  
“It is. Celebrating being one year closer to death is pointless,” Mycroft said, glare at Molly belied by a slight grin.  
She grinned back. No matter how hard Mycroft tried to hide it, he was totally enjoying this.  
“Your secret is safe with me,” she mouthed, and he nodded.  
“So! Presents!” Molly said, grinning at Mycroft’s discomfort. If his face got any redder it would catch fire. Especially considering that he was ginger.  
Mycroft successfully avoided the urge to run and hide. “Oh dear lord, really?”  
“Course, brother dear.” Sherlock drawled. “It’s traditional.” He handed Mycroft a small package.  
“Do I have to open it now?”  
“Yes. It’s very important for you to open it now.”  
Mycroft glared at his brother. Meeting no hope of resistance, he groaned and started to unwrap the box. Mycroft stared when he realized what is was. “You told me you fed this to Redbeard,” he said, looking at Sherlock suspiciously. “What do you want, Sherlock?”  
“I can’t just give my brother a birthday present?”  
Mycroft held up the gift, which was a bracelet. “This is my allergy bracelet from when I was six, you said Redbeard ate it when we were fighting in our teens”  
“And?”  
Mycroft sighed, and looked desperately at Molly. “That’s not really the sort of gift you give,” she said, rolling her eyes.  
“What’s this about feeding something to Redbeard, Sherlock?” The three had seemingly forgotten the Holmes parents were still standing there.  
“Yeah. I want to hear this story as well.” Lestrade was there as well. Drunk, yes, but there.  
Sherlock sighed. “I think this proved I didn’t actually give this to him.”  
“Sherlock, let’s not tell this story now. Maybe we can wait until enough alcohol has been consumed so that they’ll forget it in the morning,” Mycroft said hopefully, glaring at his little brother even harder.   
“Are you sure? Because I think this story should be told now,” Lestrade was very drunk, apparently.  
“Yes. I’m very sure,” Mycroft brought a slightly unsteady Lestrade to a chair. Once the man had been settled, he turned to Molly.   
“Molly...darling...why did you provide drinks?” Mycroft said, gesturing at the DI.  
Molly sighed. “I didn’t think he’d get that smashed that quickly.”  
Mycroft sighed. “Let’s hope he stays away from the drinks table.”  
“Yeah...”  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Just because you don’t want to hear why I gave you your allergy bracelet back doesn’t mean the parade of pointless gifts have to stop.”  
“You’re enjoying this?” Mycroft said, shock on his face.  
“What, can’t I enjoy the odd normal thing? That and John’s forcing me.”  
“Next then! Lestrade, did you bring a gift?” Molly was becoming good at recognizing the signs of a Holmes War brewing, and this conversation was well on its way to becoming one.  
“I have to bring a gift?” Lestrade slurred from the chair. “Everyone knows the Holmes brothers hate gifts.”  
Molly sighed. “Do I need to call a cab, Greg?” she asked gently.  
“Cab driver’ll kill me, like he tried t’do t’Sherlock.”  
“John already killed him, Greg.”  
“Hey there, no need to tell anyone that!”  
“We all know you did it.” Mycroft cut in, desperately trying to salvage the situation. Lestrade was obviously still suffering from his divorce, despite it having happened quite some time ago.   
John nodded, and sighed, before going back to what he had been previously doing, which was being sickeningly adorable with Sherlock. Somehow, no one had drowned in syrup yet.   
“Okay! Cake!” Molly said brightly, going into the kitchen. When the door swung shut behind her, she collapsed into a chair and buried her head in her hands. The party was rapidly deteriorating, and Greg drunk, and Mycroft’s parents were here, and there was just too much going on.   
Mycroft walked into the kitchen.  
Molly was stabbing the cake with a scalpel.  
The party quickly ended after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been the most fun chapter to write...and probably the one we wrote the fastest. Hope you all enjoy it!


	6. The Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly gets a spine and Greg gets a headache

Greg woke up with a hangover. A really, really bad one. He groaned, trying to remember what had happened at the party. He managed a few shaky images of John, Sherlock, Mycroft...Molly with a scalpel in her hands looking like some she-goddess of death…  
“Jesus.” he muttered. He rubbed his face with his hands. God he felt gross... he got up, and realized he was in his room. Someone had moved him? “Hello?” he croaked.  
Molly opened the door quietly.  
"Greg? Are you up?"  
Greg looked up. “Mol-- wha?”   
“You were really drunk, so I thought I should stay and make sure you didn’t choke on your vomit.”  
“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”   
“It’s no problem for me.” Molly said, smirking. “But I bet your head really hurts.”  
Greg sighed. He didn’t nod, knowing that would just make the pain worse. “Are you going to be smug all day?”  
“Yes.” Molly said (smugly) happily.  
The DI sighed. “I’m so, so sorry.”  
“Oh, don’t apologize to me. It was Mycroft’s party you got drunk at. You know, the British government, and the CIA, and probably China?”  
“...He’s going to kill me.”  
“Yep.” Molly smirked. “But hey, if he’s nice, he won’t destroy your career first.”  
Greg sighed again, and groaned in pain. “Sympathize with me, I’ve just been divorced awfully.”  
“I have no sympathy for you. You downed every kind of alcohol in the house and tried to drink the rubbing alcohol from the bathroom. Besides, you’ve been divorced for years.”  
“That doesn’t mean I’m over it.”  
“You’re not?”   
Greg nodded, sighing yet again. “She keeps... she’s always coming back, asking for me back, then leaving me again,” he grins bitterly. “Tell Mycroft I’m really sorry for ruining the party.”  
Molly agreed, then left him to his hungover misery. Once the door to the room was firmly shut behind her, she composed a text to Mycroft. 

Greg still isn’t feeling well. I’m going to stay for a bit. -Goldfish  
How bad is not feeling well? -MH  
He’s still a bit messed up from the divorce. -Goldfish  
Still? Oh dear, that’s not very good. -MH  
Oh, darling, I know. -Goldfish  
Is there anything you can do? -MH  
I was about to ask you the same thing. -Goldfish  
Keep his ex from contacting him? -Goldfish  
I’ll try. -MH

She peeped back in to find Greg asleep. Molly sighed and pursed her lips. This was a real problem. It had not impacted the DI’s work yet, but who knew what might happen. He had gotten spectacularly smashed after less than an hour at the party. Which meant a good deal of alcohol in a short period of time. Which meant health problems.  
“Greg, Greg, wake up,” Molly said, shaking him.   
Greg mumbled something and groaned as he got up. “Hi.”  
“You should stay awake,” Molly said.  
“Molly. I’m tired, hungover, and my mouth feels like the Sahara Desert. Let me sleep.” Greg groaned.   
“Your hangover is why you should stay awake, if quiet and in the dark. We also need to talk.”  
“Jesus…”Greg muttered. “Do I have to?”  
“What are the chances that I’m joking?” Molly said.   
“When did you get a spine? Normally you let everyone walk all over you.” Greg responded.   
Molly was tempted to slap him, but considering he was badly hungover for probably the seventh time this week, she didn’t. “Since I started having sex with Mycroft Holmes,” she said bluntly.  
“Fuck. Never going to get that out of my head.”  
“Now, let’s start discussing your problems.” Molly sat down beside Greg. What’s her name, where does she live, and does she have any children?”  
“I’m not seeing where this is going.”  
“It’s going toward ‘I might murder her but I would feel bad leaving children without a mother.’”  
Greg sighed. “She has a kid with her new boyfriend. One of the reasons she dumped me the first time, apparently I’m infertile. I got checked, and I know I’m not so,” he shrugged, again.  
“Okay. So murder is out. I’ll tell Mycroft though, he can do something bad to her.”  
“Molly, you’re overreacting,” Greg said, still fuzzy with the headache.  
“Greg, my boyfriend is the British government. It’s slightly intoxicating, so allow me my scheming. And yes, she was awful. You’re bordering on alcoholism.”  
Greg rolled over, burying his face in a pillow, and groaned. “Molly, can you just leave me to my pain?”  
“No.”  
Just then, Molly’s cell phone rang.   
“Hello, I cut up dead people for a living,”   
“Molly, it’s me.”Mycroft said. “I’m not the British government.”  
“And I have a passionate lust for Irene Adler. Your point?”  
“What?” Mycroft sputtered. “You have a lust for Irene Adler?”  
“A passionate one. You’re the British government, we all know it, so don’t lie.”  
Mycroft muttered something unintelligible. “But in all seriousness, how is he?” he asked. Mycroft and Greg had struck up an odd friendship when discovering that both of their top priorities were worrying over Sherlock , and Mycroft was worried about Greg now.  
“He’s alright. Complaining, so he’s alright.”  
“Good. Perhaps we should let him get some rest.” Mycroft said, and Molly nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see her. She went to grab her coat from Greg’s bedroom.   
“Do you promise not to drink?”  
“Yes.” Greg said. “Are you leaving already? I had so much fun listening to you lecture me.”  
"I need you to rest. Doctor’s orders.” Molly said, going for the door.   
“All your patients are dead.” Greg retorted, before drawing a blanket closer around him.   
Before Molly could respond, he had fallen asleep. Smiling, Molly tiptoed out of the room and flicked off the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so sorry for the delay. Of like three months. Yeah. We're bad at this.

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and kudos are appreciated as always. Chapters will probably be posted fairly frequently until we run out of the stuff we've already written and have to write more. It's going to take a bit longer after that. My work ethic is absolutely awful.


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